Tony Hurt

As you journey through life, certain moments stick with you—those times when, years later, you shake your head and think, What on earth was I thinking? Let me take you back to the late 1960s, a simpler time, when my sister Karen, our mom, and I ventured out to a store in Hopkinsville. I can’t quite recall […]

I have a confession to make. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of, but it’s a moment I still reflect on with a mix of amusement and regret. At the time, though, it felt like a stroke of rebellious genius. Let’s rewind to 1978—or at least that’s my best guess. My buddies and I were

It was the late 1960s in Todd County, Kentucky—a time when life moved a little slower, and the world felt as simple as the dirt under your boots. My grandparents’ farm was my slice of heaven. Their place sprawled across rolling pastures and tobacco patches, where cows grazed lazily under open skies, and the air

Growing up as a boy surrounded by sisters, I never had a big brother. Instead, I had my big sister, Karen. With two older sisters and two younger ones, I was the only boy. But Karen, who was just a year and four months older, became the sibling who filled that big-brother role. She was

The other day, as I was helping my son move a deer stand, my mind wandered back, taking me all the way to my early twenties, out in North Todd. Back then, I had this young, bold dream—to be a wildlife photographer, capturing the raw, untamed beauty of the deer and landscapes that felt like

In the fall of ’76, my friend and I embarked on a backpacking adventure behind my grandpa’s farm in north Todd, venturing deep into the woods for a few days of camping. We spent our first night under the open sky, nestled in our sleeping bags, only to be pelted with sleet. The next morning,

A couple of days ago I was leaving my farm in my classic 67 ford pickup, as I pulled out on the blacktop and was shifting gears, a memory from long ago came to mind… When I was a child, summers were golden and endless, and I spent them in the cab of my grandpa’s 1967

Every summer, during my visits to my grandparent’s home in North Todd, my grandmother was constantly engaged—tending her garden, preparing supper, or maintaining the house. Yet, on some lazy afternoons, a cherished ritual would take place on the front porch of their old farmhouse, which seemed to sway in harmony with the seasonal rhythm.This was

In the summer of 1969, my family and I came to Todd County to visit my Grandparents on their farm. During our stay, my cousins from Missouri came to visit as well, and we were all young boys eager for adventure. One day, while we were hanging out with Grandpa, he announced that he was

In the spring of 1974, my family and I had acquired my grandpa’s cherished farm, a place where I had joyfully spent nearly every sun-soaked childhood summer. Bursting with excitement, we moved from the Sunshine State, eager to embrace our new, rustic life. I was particularly thrilled about tending to the cows and transforming into